Haunting Memories
by MinervasBibliophage
Summary: When Minerva returns to Hogwarts after her stint in St. Mungo's, she has a trivial exchange with Severus. Their banter becomes the through line of their final confrontation as she realizes how far they've fallen apart.


**A/N: This has been kicking around in my drafts for the last 4+ years. Story starts at the end of OotP, directly after McGonagall has distributed House points and told the boys to go enjoy the sunny weather.**

* * *

 ** _19 June 1996_**

The Potions Master's eyes followed the newly released Transfiguration Professor make her way to the staircase, the opposite direction of her first-floor office, "Minerva, where are you going?"

"Up to the Headmaster's of course. I need to show him that I'm perfectly all right." She said it casually, but he could hear the warning in it.

"I really don't think arriving winded from a staircase you used to take two steps at a time in a hurry is going to impress him very much," he said pointedly as he walked to the base of the staircase.

"I'm in no particular hurry," she told him evasively, some annoyance taking residence in her voice as she started up the steps.

"Good, then I'll join you."

She glared down at him from her perch as he began to draw closer, "Severus, don't think I'm above beating you with my walking stick."

"You wouldn't dare. I'd claim it was House discrimination," he stepped up next to her, taking her arm so she could surreptitiously put some of her weight on him as they kept moving upward. "And from the great Minerva McGonagall, the epitome of fairness. Imagine the scandal that would cause."

"Oh bollocks," Minerva said with a slight frown, "you know nobody would take the side of a Slytherin." Pausing on the steps and turning towards him, she said, "The irony in that statement was palpable, I could just feel it. You felt it too, didn't you?"

He leaned slightly against her to keep her moving up the staircase, "I believe you're getting dotty in your old age, Minerva."

"Old age?" her face scrunched in distaste, "Just the other day you were saying that I wasn't that old."

"The 'other day' you are referring to was two months ago, and during those two months we were worried that you would die because of four stunners to the chest _at your old age_ ," he emphasized the last phrase by speaking it as slowly as he would to a trembling Hufflepuff firstie.

"You were worried, Severus? I'm touched," she teased him. "And if I'm dotty it's the exhilaration of actually being able to walk around and not lay all day in a hospital bed."

He looked over at her, an intriguing thought making him smirk, "Did you request a tartan hospital gown?"

"You best be watching yourself, lad," she said turning sharply and glaring at him, Scottish brogue surfacing, "I could still take you, Stunners or no."

"I'm half tempted to release you and see what happens," Severus said contemplatively, gazing meaningfully behind them and all the steps they had climbed.

She followed his gaze, unconsciously clutching his arm a little tighter, "Not yet," then looked him sternly in the eyes, "but I _can_ take you on solid, even ground."

"Of course you can, Minerva," he told her much as he would a small child, if Severus actually talked to children willingly and without the intention of terrorizing them.

She scowled at him, "I feel patronized. Am I being patronized?"

"Not at all."

"Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you," Minerva said, rolling her eyes as they crested the landing.

"Sometimes I wonder the same about you."

"And then I remember," she leaned her weight towards him trying to ease her hip.

"I usually have trouble with that part," Severus muttered, providing the support the banister had been giving her their whole trek upwards.

"As long as you do," Minerva said softly patting his arm.

"Don't turn sentimental on me, Professor. Then you'll truly be showing your age."

"Sentimental? Weren't you just saying that you were worried about me?" she was hard-pressed to hide the small smile that still broke through despite her best efforts.

"I said 'we,'" he reminded her a tad defensively, "And half of Hogwarts assumed that was your death bed you were laying in all day."

"Well, unfortunately, you can't get rid of me that easily, Severus."

"We're on solid, even ground. Do you want to test both your claims?" he asked arching his brow.

Minerva looked him up and down, "No, I don't think so. I'd really rather not have to explain to Albus why we need a new Potions Master for next year."

"Of course, Minerva," he said as he shifted his arm slightly as though to subtly remind her that she was leaning on him.

"Don't you have somewhere to go, Severus?" she asked with annoyance.

"I might as well continue with you. Protect you from all the rabid well-wishers," he answered blandly as they walked down the empty hallway, the only other sound being their echoing footsteps and faintly swishing robes.

"How noble of you," Minerva responded with an eye roll, adding with a heavy dose of sarcasm, "I really don't know what I would do without you."

Turning his head to look down at her, he said quite seriously, "Neither do I."

She glared at him, "Oh, go brew something."

"After I get you to the Headmaster's," he told her as he grasped her arm more tightly, supporting her even more as they walked.

That's when she noticed that she had slowed down considerably since they'd gotten off the stairs. Was she really that weak? Merlin, he must think she had become an invalid, and probably thought he had the upper hand in the situation. There was no point in fighting it, he did. But that didn't mean she had to admit it. "Fine, you overgrown nuisance," she said exasperatedly as if it were such a burden.

"Stubborn Gryffindor," he muttered.

"You make it sound like it's a bad thing," she said loftily.

Glancing sideways at Severus, she saw him smirk. Minerva smiled softly and the two continued in companionable silence until they were in front of the gargoyle.

* * *

 ** _1 May 1998_**

The crash of daggers into metal armor echoed down the empty hall. _"Fight me! Fight me! FIGHT ME!"_ she was mentally screaming over and over. If he bothered using Legilimency on her he would hear it as she did, reverberating in her skull. Her litany was punctuated with her spells. Her face was the grim mask she had been wearing all year, the only change the exertion of the duel. Her mind was crying out her fury, her rage, her sorrow.

 _Fight me, we are on solid, even ground._

There was no more threat of what the Dark Lord would do to the children to keep her in check. Harry was here and the battle would come. The children were already lost.

 _I can take you, Stunners or no._

There was no parapet behind her, no great fall into death's waiting arms, but the betrayal was there.

Her memories fueled her anger, undulating between years and mixing together. He was running past them in her mind's eye, through the barrier and up the curved steps to rescue a student.

 _I'm half tempted to release you and see what happens._

He had returned from the tower dragging the Malfoy boy behind him with the Death Eaters on their tail. The Order tried holding them off, fighting them so the professor and student could get away.

 _Not yet._

The Headmaster was crumpled on the ground, and Harry said it was the Potions Master with the Killing Curse in the Astronomy Tower.

 _I really don't know what I would do without you._

The day he had come back to stand at Hogwarts' helm she watched him with a cold detachment, her bearing as regal and intimidating as ever.

 _Don't think I'm above beating you with my walking stick._

He gave her one look and she understood the lay of the land. They had known each other personally for almost twenty years. They knew the action of the other before they committed it.

 _You wouldn't dare._

And just a few minutes previous when they first met in the hallway, all of her rage had bubbled to the surface, and then he had asked, "Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have. I must insist —"

 _Do you want to test both your claims?_

She did, she so badly wanted to, and then she was slashing her wand at him, her emotions exploding from the tight control she'd had all year. _Fight me! Fight me! FIGHT ME!_

She heard her friends coming up behind her, the friends that often teased the two of them in the staffroom whenever they fought. There was no laughter for this fight.

 _You know nobody would take the side of a Slytherin._

He was beating a rapid retreat into a classroom cornered by the window. A stray thought entered unbidden into her mind, _is that how Albus felt cornered on the top of the Tower?_ Surrounded by the enemies created by difference in views, the wand that would pass judgment wielded by the one he once called friend.

 _The irony in that statement was palpable, I could just feel it. You felt it too, didn't you?_

And then he jumped through the glass window and she cried out, "Coward! COWARD!" He was flying away to safety, away from the fight, away from her. The little voice in her head mourned her lost chance, _I could have taken you._

* * *

 ** _2 May 1998_**

It was done, that thing was dead. And so was he. She had known him for three quarters of his life, had helped raise him and sometimes did a better job at it than Horace, had been his friend for almost half of his life and a third of hers, and yet she didn't know him. She missed him. She had been missing him ever since he ran past her out of the Tower.

 _Don't turn sentimental on me, Professor. Then you'll truly be showing your age._

That had not been him the last year acting as Headmaster, that wasn't her Severus. The tears fell down her worn face. She had mourned him long ago, but now she could admit it to herself. _Sometimes I wonder if I'm not sentimental enough…_

* * *

 ** _A few days later..._**

The sky was an iron grey, completely covered in stormy clouds. The wind had picked up, heralding the impending storm and blowing about the wisps of raven hair that had escaped Minerva's loosened bun. A deep rumbling of thunder could be heard in the distance giving a final warning before the clouds let loose a deluge of rain. The few mourners that were present were turning to leave. Their respects had been paid, there was no need to be soaked as well. She ignored the weather, even as her drenched robes began to cling to her thin frame, not bothering to use a charm to keep herself dry and warm.

Minerva noted that the day of Albus' funeral had been bright and sunny, seemingly mocking their despair while simultaneously reminding them of the wonderful person they had lost. This was the perfect weather for Severus. There was no friendly demeanor or sunny disposition in the man, the clouds never broke. But if you could weather the storms, then you were worthy to see beyond the thunder and lightning. You would see Severus. There was a soothing quality to his iron grey countenance; the cool stormy wind was as refreshing as it was exhilarating. The overhanging gloom and cynicism sometimes made her want to shake the man, but it was Severus.

 _Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you._

 _Sometimes I wonder the same about you._

"And then I remember," Minerva whispered in front of his headstone.

She hoped he did too.


End file.
